Why I Knit

Beware, a self indulgent post.

Between failing at my attempt to be Donna Reed and feeding my hated* for Go, Diego, Go!, I knit.

Sometimes I don’t know why I knit. I don’t seem like I have as much time as other blogging knitters. Or as much talent. I never have enough time or money to do all of the knitting I want. Let alone the body to wear all the things I want.

Photobucket These do not belong on tree trunk legs.

By the way, this is a beautiful pattern. It’s not the pattern’s fault that I can’t wear socks like that. Clessidra pattern for those of you who are not me. Anyway, why I knit:

1. Relaxation: Mindless knitting. I need mindless knitting. I knit when I’m stressed and it does calm me. It really does. It’s not just a myth. You know what else is supposed to calm you? Petting a cat.

Photobucket You absorb calm and the ability to play your tummy as a bongo directly from cat fur. Science, bitches!

2. Challenge: this seems to contradict number 1, but despite my general lazy nature, my mind does like to be challenged. I like learning new things. I’ve been knitting seriously only for about 6 years and every time I make something that isn’t a big rectangle I’m excited.

Photobucket My favorite dpns.

Photobucket My first item made from dpns. Sorry, Boris.

After all these years, I still haven’t made a sweater, which I hope to remedy this year. I think a sweater is probably the epitome of knitting. At least for me. I can’t find my Master Knitting List, so here is Thrifty Knitter’s List. I can assure you, her’s is WAY more done than mine.

3. My general morbid attitude/fame and glory. I don’t know if you know this about me, but I am going to die. For real. One day I will be DEAD. Not even breathing. And then, one day, people will forget that I was even alive. I don’t fear death or dying (just the shit that will inevitably lead up to it). I fear being forgotten. My real hope is that people will remember me for something nice, not just all the mean horribleness. Hats and scarves and blankets and sweaters will be passed on and passed down, hopefully to grandchildren and great grandchildren. I want something tangible for my kids to remember me by. I want my friends to remember me. I want my friends’ kids to remember me. Maybe this is conceited, or self important, but what can I say, I’m conceited and self important. Did you notice that this blog is about ME?

*Yesterday, Diego’s Rescue Pack needed to be rescued. Really, the Rescue Pack needed to be rescued? Today, they had an episode about anacondas. “Anacondas give really good hugs!” Seriously. They said that. Irresponsible programing for real.

Photobucket Anaconda hugging a crocodile. Where is Mr. Dundee???

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